Department store joy

I've just been reading this:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2009/feb/04/retail-shopping-department-stores

I used to live near Bentalls in Kingston, and have distinct and vivid memories of the old incarnation. These days I understand it's owned by the same group who run Selfridges (Fenwick, I think) and is all Carluccio's and Max Mara concessions. I do have quite a soft spot for it, mind, even now. Everything is still under one roof, and, even though I can't afford half of it, and it's a bit WAG these days, it's still a pretty pleasant experience. I don' think I agree with her comment about these stores being being "balm to the soul", mind. More like "soul numbing caverns of capitalism". Not that that's a bad thing.

But the old store - that was brilliant. You entered though a fairly dingy row of arched doorways, where there was a lobby with a florist and a row of those smoked-glass-plastic pod-like telephone booths (which seem to remind me of Space 1999 or UFO - I don't know why). But you stepped to the right through another set of doors and an entirely new world beckoned.

It was a tiered store in the Liberty mould (right down to the heavy, dark wood staircases). The first section you were met with was the beauty section, gleaming bright white and a fair bit of neon, if my brain doesn't deceive me. Lots of scary, bouffant women and strong, flowery smells my mother quite rightly avoided. But once you passed that area and you couldn't see the upper levels through the balconies built in, it stopped being glitzy, and suddenly morphed into Are You Being Served? Seriously. Heavy wooden shelves and austere staff, munty-looking mannequins in terrible ensembles, odd smells (I'm thinking mothballs, but that's not quite right), stained carpet (because here the lino ended and the carpet began), and a veritable maze of departments whose layouts made no sense to anyone.

Speaking of which, and slightly topical, it was in the bedding and towels department that I was taken to see Tony Hart do drawings on request (I think whilst promoting something). He wouldn't draw a frog for me. I remember being quite upset about this at the time.

My mum hated going in there. She particularly hated the escalators which had been hacked into the floors at some point in history, she being scared of them anyway, but there was something strangely dizzying about them - I think it was that they were so short as the ceilings were quite low (think Liberty's again), but positioned right next to the balconies. A sort of vertical travelmat sensation, if that makes sense. Elevators would've been more useful, but I guess they weren't modern enough.

Anyway, this strange old store was knocked down in 1987, when I was 7 or 8 years old. I remember it vividly, and just looking into it discovered that Eric Gill has a hand in the stonework, and that it was based on Wren's plans for Hampton Court Palace down the road. Which is news to me.

My memories of this odd-smelling, strangely laid-out store are still very strong, and it's always a bit odd to walk into the shiny new version. I still half-expect the manky carpet to be there, or the pod-booths to be in the atrium bit, with a shifty-looking bloke in a leather jacket making a call. It's always a bit of a shame when something so character-filled and strangely, fascinatingly awful gets so sanitised. But then I'd miss out on Cioccolata Fiorentina, and that wouldn't be fair, would it?